Impressions
by Sequelized
Summary: ShinRa's Space Department has a new pilot. Shera can't decide whether that's a good or bad thing. Shera/Cid, pre-game.


**Title: **Impressions (aka When Shera Met Cid)

**Rating:** T

**Genre: **Humor

**Pairing: **It's more pre-Shera/Cid than a full out pairing.

**Summary:** ShinRa's Space Department has a new pilot. Shera can't decide whether that's a good or bad thing.

**A/N:** I'm not an expert in rocket science and such, so there are most likely a few inaccuracies within this one-shot.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

* * *

The pilot Palmer had recently hired was smoking in a highly flammable area.

Shera found herself unable to tear her eyes away, though it wasn't due to the very good possibility that she might die at twenty-six.

No, this new aviator had something about him she couldn't quite discern. He was different from the previous pilot, Bob, who had been a swift and sure worker, an excellent troubleshooter. Regrettably, he had also been a vocal man, often prone to reiterating conspiracy theories involving the company that employed him.

He'd lasted all of two weeks.

However efficient a ShinRa employee Bob had been, the Turks were _far_ more efficient.

But where his predecessor had been paranoiac and outspoken (an unfortunate combination for one working under ShinRa Electric Company), the blonde pilot was gruff, intelligent...and oddly attractive.

Despite having little interaction with him herself, from observation Shera could firmly say he certainly knew his craft. His plane, _Tiny_ _Bronco_, ran with a smoothness that clearly displayed the meticulous attention paid to its mechanics. She also found great relief that the staff under his command had no collaboration issues with her own workers, which had often been a problem for her with other specialized groups within the space department.

The Space program was still in its developing stages, an infant compared to ShinRa's longstanding departments, so the number of people actually qualified for such positions were, sadly, very few. Subsequently, she was glad to finally see someone as sufficiently skilled as the captain fill the pilot position.

The pilot dropped the tool he had been using and a stream of curses filled the room. Shera flushed pink. _Oh my. He has... an interesting vocabulary._

As he realized she stood near, he spared her a distracted glance and grunted, "Get yer ass over here and hold this light, Sherry."

Shera hurried into the room and took the flashlight, shining it on the engine of the Tiny Bronco. "Actually, my name—"

"Woman, I ain't got time for yer squeakin'. Just hold the damn thing."

Her mouth snapped shut. Why did she find him attractive again?

At that moment, a pair of cerulean eyes briefly met hers.

_Such beautiful eyes. Strangely, the permanent scowl doesn't take away from that._

Eventually, the pilot finished tinkering with his plane's engine and shut the hood. Shera clicked the flashlight off, nervously fixing her glasses upon her nose.

He grumbled a bit and absently wiped his hands on a raggedy handkerchief. The irritable glare he sent her silently demanded, _'Why are you still here?'_

Shera hurriedly spoke, "I understand you will be the first man sent to space? I thought you would be interested in the progress of the rocket's construction."

A curious light entered his gaze, "Yer right 'bout that, Sheila."

Shera fought the urge to correct him and reported, "All has gone according to schedule as yet, however, the combustion chamber is proving difficult. My assistant and I may need to allot an extra week or so for the tests required—"

"Stop talkin' like a f*&#% rocket scientist," he snorted.

"But I am a rocket scientist," she pointed out, confused.

"Then start actin' _less _like one."

_This man_, she mused absently, _must consider himself error-free_.

Abruptly, Shera realized they had not been properly introduced to one another.

"It's slipped my mind… I believe we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Shera," she smiled, extending her hand. "All authorization for our department's projects falls to me."

"Cid Highwind," he grinned, taking her hand in a firm grip. "Head honcho, eh? What are ya, thirty, Thirty-two?"

_Do I really look so old? _A blush flared in her cheeks. "Twenty-six."

He placed a cigarette between his lips and regarded her with a raised brow. "Ain't you a little young?"

"I could say the same for you, Captain Highwind. Perhaps you should wash your hands…?" she added worriedly.

The pilot looked at his oil-stained hands, then, shrugging, flicked on the lighter. "Ain't nothin' fancier than goin' out in flames. Heh!"

So, that's how the sweet, timid Shera met the foul-mouthed pilot Cid. It also marked the year said pilot began attending mandatory (one person) fire safety seminars.

**The End.**


End file.
